


Intertwined souls

by Liv_6930



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liv_6930/pseuds/Liv_6930
Summary: After the war, Harry thought he was finally free from Voldemort. However, after being kidnapped and discovering he is the master of Death, he starts having vivid dreams about him again.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter (mostly one-sided), Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 100





	1. No one can escape Death

How long had he been locked inside this cell? Harry had no idea. In that dark room, time didn't mean anything. It felt like he had been stuck here for months. That thought should probably have scared him more, but he was currently feeling rather numb. 

_You know, that’s not a very good sign,_ a voice pointed out from the back of his mind. 

_Neither is talking to yourself,_ he answered.

His creasy musing was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Harry sighed and tried to pretend this simple action didn’t hurt his entire being. 

_Here comes my daily dose of torture._

“Crucio.” 

Always the same word whispered in the same mirthless voice. His eyes found a crack on the ceiling, and he kept his gaze on it.

_It's just pain. You’ve had your share of it._

True. As far as he could remember, pain had always been a part of his life. The Dursleys hadn’t beaten him every day, but they could be vicious. He still remembered the feeling of the burning stove on his hands. At the time, Harry had believed nothing could be more painful. How wrong one could be…

_Today, the pain is a little greater but, just like back then, you will get through this._

_Will I?_

_Help will come. Hermione and Ron won’t rest until they find you. Neither will your other friends. You just need to keep your sanity until they arrive._

That lie was becoming increasingly difficult to believe.

The pain stopped abruptly, and Harry immediately knew something was wrong. Their torture sessions were never that short. He attempted to lift his head but found himself too weak to do so. 

“The time has come.”

It wasn’t the voice from earlier, but it was equally emotionless. Harry took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever horrible torture was to come. The sound of footsteps made him turn his head. All he could see was a dark figure looming over him. Without his glasses, he could not properly distinguish the stranger’s features, but even he couldn’t miss the raised object in his hands.

He didn’t even have the time to scream before the blade was planted in his heart.

_No!_

Blood everywhere.

_It's not fair. Not when the war is finally won._

Such violence. There was no chance of survival.

_Don’t you know by now that life isn’t fair…_

His body was on fire. He was stuck in a world of pain.

_Maybe it’s better that way. You were never meant to survive._

His eyelids were becoming too heavy. There wasn’t much time left.

_No one can escape Death._

With that last thought, Harry’s world went blank.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, he was once again in King’s Cross station. This time, Dumbledore was not the one to greet him.

“Harry Potter.” 

His name, practically hissed, could only be uttered by one person. Harry barely hold back a flinch.

“Voldemort”

His own voice was merely above a whisper. But who could blame him when the fallen Dark Lord was standing a few feet away from him? Voldemort looked once more like his handsome younger self, but his unsettling crimson eyes made it impossible to mistake him for someone else. An infuriatingly smug smile appeared on his face when Harry used the name the dark wizard had chosen for himself instead of his given one. Harry mentally cursed himself for that.

“Why Harry, you look surprised to see me. Were you expecting someone else?”

He should be angry. So much sufferings, and he couldn’t even be welcomed in death by a loved one. And yet, he knew the Dark Lord’s presence was somehow fitting, for their fates had been so intertwined.

“Do you know why we are here, Harry Potter?”

Harry remained silent. He was not in the mood to play Tom Riddle’s little mind games. Voldemort didn't seem to care about his foe's apathy anyway. Slowly, without taking his eyes off Harry, he began to move sideways, around the Boy-who-lived. Harry took the invitation for what it was and joined him in that strange little dance. Their positions now reminded him terribly of their ultimate confrontation.

“We are here to discuss your fate.”

That caught Harry off guard. His fate?

“My fate? I’m dead, aren’t I?”

How could he not be, now that his mother’s protection was truly gone? Yet, Voldemort merely smiled patronizingly. Despite his benign expression, his eyes had taken a well-known predatory hint. Still, Harry held his gaze. Green meeting red, they continued to circle each other. 

“Are you?" Voldemort tilted his head slightly."It seems you are forgetting a part of the tale.” 

Voldemort’s tone was deceptively casual, and Harry immediately knew he wouldn’t like where this was going. 

“You mean the tale of the three brothers? But what…”

A few seconds passed, Harry was no Ravenclaw after all. Suddenly, it dawned on him.

“I possess the three Hallows," he said in a hollow voice. It seemed so surreal. When the silence stretched, the Dark Lord said what Harry Potter could not, “You are the master of Death.”

Harry could feel the truth behind those words. Nonetheless, he felt the need to deny them. “But Dumbledore said that-” Harry cut himself mid-sentence when a violent emotion flickered on Voldemort's face. Upon hearing the late headmaster's name, the Dark Lord's carefully blank expression had completely vanished. Fury was written all over his face. “Haven’t you learned by now that Dumbledore is nothing but a liar?”, he snarled.

Harry didn’t agree, but there was no point in arguing about that. Tom Riddle could never see past the wrongs Dumbledore had once caused him. Instead, he focused his mind on what Voldemort had just told him. The master of Death… Somehow, he knew it was true. But what did it entail? Having that title had saved him today, but Harry knew it was bigger than this. Such a gift is never free.

_Think, think, think_

The bigger picture was becoming clearer. Harry stopped in his tracks. “I will never join my parents.” Immortality, this was what it meant to him. He had lost so many loved ones, and he could never join them. Not fully. All his friends would eventually die, and he would end up alone. Harry's breath hitched.

There had to be a way out.

_Think, think, think_

Harry refused to panic. “Ok, so I’m the master of death.” He took a calming breath, “That’s because I have the three hallows, right? Does that mean If I disperse them, I will be mortal again?” Surely, this would work.

“I’m afraid it is not that simple.” Voldemort’s icy tone struck Harry like a blow. “Death deemed you worthy to be her master. She will not let you go that easily.”

He was lying. Voldemort had to be lying. It couldn’t be so final.

“But I don’t want to be the master of death!” Unlike Voldemort, he had never yearned for immortality. He knew there were worst fates than death.

Unrelenting, the other man continued, “Were you not whining just a moment ago about the unfairness of your death? Didn’t you get what you wanted?”

What Harry wanted… What he wanted was to have a normal life. To grow old and die surrounded by a family. But how could a man like Voldemort understand such a wish?

The charming mask was now completely gone. Full of cruel contempt, Tom Riddle's eyes revealed his true nature. “You're quite the little hypocrite, aren't you? You wish for normalcy but the truth is you wouldn’t be able to cope with such a life." The Dark Lord paused for a moment. When he spoke again, it was in the most arrogant voice. "You are a little too Slytherin for that.” 

Had he spoken out loud or could Voldemort simply hear his thoughts in that strange world? How did he know that he had almost been a Slytherin? Harry ignored those questions. Desperation was quickly morphing into anger.

“You know nothing about me,” he shouted. “Shouldn’t you be angry anyway? I got what you wanted. I’m immortal and you’re dead. I killed you!”

His outburst didn’t have the effect Harry had expected. Instead of reacting in rage, Voldemort burst out laughing. A frightening and mirthless laugh.

Harry stared.

“What the…”

As quickly as it had come, the laughter stopped. Voldemort remained immobile for a few seconds, amusement still glistening in his eyes, before slowly walking toward him. Harry didn’t move, not even when the Dark Lord was only millimeters away. He would run from Voldemort no more.

“Oh, but Harry, I never said I wouldn’t get anything out of this.”

Despite the danger those words implied, Harry still didn’t step back. It would be easy to claim it was because of his earlier resolution, but the truth was he felt strangely serene. As if Voldemort’s proximity was filling a void Harry hadn’t known was there. That was not bloody normal.

“I’m afraid Fate is not over with the two of us.”

Mesmerized, Harry could only listen. Voldemort leaned toward him and whispered seductively in his ear. “By the way, Death prepared a little gift just for you. I hope you enjoy it.”

The world disappeared once more.

* * *

The first thing Harry felt was the pain. Its source became clear when he found the strength to open his eyes. The silver dagger was still firmly stuck in his heart. And yet…he was alive.

_Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out._

With a sharp movement, he removed the dagger. He was bleeding profusely, but he didn’t pay any attention to the wound. _It’s not like the hemorrhage is going to kill me, right?_

Harry knew he had to think fast. Sure, he apparently couldn’t be killed but he could still get hurt, and he was in no position to overpower his captors. The prospect of being tortured for eternity was not an alluring one.

_You’re being dramatic. Help will come._

But he was done waiting. It was obvious nobody could figure out where he was.

_What are you going to do? You can’t fight them, you said so yourself._

Maybe he wouldn’t have to fight. He couldn’t hear anything. Maybe they had left the place thinking he was dead.

_Now, you’re just fooling yourself._

This line of thought wouldn’t get him anywhere. Gritting his teeth, Harry managed to stand up. However, he was not ready for the sight that awaited him. Two of his captors were laying on the ground, their faces were frozen in an expression of terror. Their chests were bleeding. Aghast, Harry looked down at his wound, it was similar.

_What the fuck is that?_

He slowly approached the man who was the closest to him. This time, he barely noticed the pain the effort caused him. With a trembling arm, he searched for a pulse.  
Unsurprisingly, he found none.

_What the fuck?_

Harry’s eyes were stuck on the corpse’s terrified eyes. He still couldn’t see properly, but he managed to recognize him. He was the one with the dagger. Had Harry worn the same frightened expression when this man had stabbed him mercilessly?

At that thought, Harry violently jerked back.

_I have to get out of here. Now._

The man’s wand was in his right hand. Harry took it from his clenched fist, cast a quick Alohomora, and left this blasted cell.

_Finally._


	2. Welcome back to the world

Surrounded by dusky trinkets, Harry was slowly walking down the dark corridor. He had no memory of this place, but then again, he had been pretty out of it when his captors first brought him here. At least his wound had stopped bleeding. Harry knew it was healing way too fast, but he tried not to dwell on that. Pretending his meeting with Tom Riddle had been a harmless dream without any consequences sounded very appealing right now. 

_Nothing about it is harmless._

_Shut up!_

_And it does have consequences. You can’t pretend otherwise, as tempting as it is. Haven’t you seen your kidnappers’ corpses?_

_Their death has nothing to do with this madness! Nothing to do with me!_

Harry snorted. The link between the two events was painfully obvious. At this point, being in denial over it was just plain stupid. He had seen and done worse, he had other deaths on his conscience after all. 

_I didn’t kill them!_

_But you asked for it, during those endless torture sessions. You wanted revenge so badly. And look, Death fulfilled your wish._

At the end of the hallway, two other corpses were waiting for him in the shadows. 

_No!_

Harry willed the voice away. He had to stop listening to this part of his mind; it was weak and useless. It had made him act like a fool in front of Voldemort, and it made him cower now. How childish he had been, believing his greatest foe gone, lowering his defenses. And look where it led him, kidnapped and wallowing in self-pity.

No, no longer. Harry had to be strong again, if not for himself, then for others. His meeting with Voldemort had not been a dream, at least not an ordinary one. The Dark Lord was up to something, and whatever plan he had in mind needed to be stopped, for another war was unthinkable.

_Stop calling him Voldemort. Remember, it gives him power over you. From now on, he is Tom Riddle and nothing else._

This time, no voice argued with him. Harry counted that as a victory.

* * *

On his way out, Harry stumbled on a few other corpses, but this time he ignored them. Guilt wouldn’t help anyone, least of all them. And if somewhere deep in the back of his mind, the death of his tormenters brought him some satisfaction, nobody needed to know. 

In the end, he found the exit pretty easily, nobody was there to stop him after all. Another Alohomora and the massive doors opened, revealing the outside world to Harry.

 _The sky is beautiful,_ was the first thought that came to him. And indeed, it was. The night had already fallen and hundreds of stars seemed to be smiling at him from lightyears away. The wind on his face was cold, but he still found himself relishing the feeling, it made him feel alive. Breathing deeply, Harry stood motionless, enjoying his freedom. 

After a few minutes, he reluctantly turned around to observe his former prison. It was an old British manor, unfamiliar to Harry. 

Anonymous captors, a remote mansion, an unknown motive. So many mysteries... And yet, Harry, despite his curious nature, felt indifferent. Already his mind was fixated on Tom Riddle. He was and had always been the biggest threat. If he could still cause some harm, it would be up to Harry to stop him again, not because he was the most powerful wizard or even the wisest one but simply because it was meant to be this way. 

But first, he had to find his way home. _Easier said than done,_ he thought.Weeks of tortures had not left him unscathed. He was exhausted, physically, and magically. The two Alohomora had taken a lot of the strength he had left, and he wasn’t sure he could Apparate. He could still try, though. _Focus_. Choosing his destination wasn’t difficult. There was only one place he truly longed to see again. 

He could almost hear Hermione’s exasperated voice, _Harry, how many times do I have to tell you? You can’t Apparate on Hogwarts grounds. You would know that if you had bothered to read Hogwarts: A History!_ Smiling at the memory, Harry visualized the Honeydukes shop instead of the school. _Concentrate, you can do it._ The sickening feeling of Apparition enveloped him, and he knew he had succeeded before he opened his eyes.

* * *

After Apparating, Harry was even more exhausted, and his journey toward the castle was a bit of a blur. Thankfully, he had taken the secret passageway behind the crooked witch so many times that he barely had to be cognizant to find his way around. Still, a moment of clarity flickered when he entered Hogwarts, and he stopped in his tracks. The castle hadn’t changed one bit, and standing inside it once more felt a little like coming home.

A rush of nausea abruptly reminded him that he didn’t have the time to get emotional. 

_Focus, you have to find the headmistress._

Right. As silently as he could in order not to wake the paintings, Harry began to walk again. Thank Merlin that he had escaped during the night, because a supposed missing and covered in blood Harry Potter wandering inside the castle would have caused quite a commotion. Lost in thought, Harry didn’t notice anything amiss until he violently bumped into someone. 

Shit, talk about timing. 

Harry heard a muffled shout immediately followed by a few colorful curses.“You idiot!”The other person fumed. Astounded, Harry realized that he knew this prickly, arrogant voice.  
Somehow, of all people, He had run into Draco Malfoy. 

_Potter luck.Typical._

Harry sighed, he wasn’t in the mood to have a little chat with Malfoy. But perhaps, the situation could still be salvaged. After all, the other boy didn’t know he was facing Harry Potter. He also probably didn’t want to linger in the corridor so late, not when a professor could catch him. Maybe he would just let him go without questions.

“Lumos.” 

_Perfect. So much for anonymity._

Harry tried to step away from the light, but it was of no use. Malfoy, eyes wide with shock, had clearly recognized him. Taking advantage of his surprise, Harry began walking again at a fast pace. He was out of time. He could feel it, and he wanted to be with a trustworthy person when he would inevitably pass out. Malfoy obviously didn’t fall into that category. 

_I wouldn’t be so sure about that. He could have identified you that day, but he didn’t. Why?_

Why indeed? But he could question the Slytherin another day. Besides, one good deed didn’t change anything. _It usually does to you, you’re too forgiving. Remember Snape._

He heard Malfoy calling his name, but he didn’t stop. If anything, he went faster. It was probably not the most intelligent idea considering his abysmal physical state, but Harry had always been too stubborn for his own good. However, it didn't stop his flight from coming to an abrupt end when Malfoy grabbed his arm and almost made him fall in the process. Reluctantly, Harry turned around. The action made colored spots appear in his vision.

“Potter?”Malfoy breathed shakily. His expression was incredulous, and his hold unnecessarily tightened around Harry’s arm, almost as if he had expected his hand to go straight through it. Maybe he had thought Harry was a ghost. With all the blood on his shirt, Harry certainly looked like the Bloody Baron. 

Harry opened his mouth to say something, probably to ask the blond idiot to let him go, but found himself unable to do so. His head felt dizzy.

_Fainting dramatically is becoming a bit of a habit, don't you think?_

Malfoy was speaking, but the only thing Harry could hear was a strange buzzing sound. Once more, darkness enveloped him.

Almost unsurprisingly, Riddle was waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. I'll try to write the third chapter a little more quickly :).  
> PS : English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistake.


	3. So many questions

Harry observed his surroundings. He was no longer in King’s cross station. Instead, he was standing inside what looked like a random muggle prison. No, not any prison. It was oddly familiar.

After a few moments, he realized that it came from a movie Hermione had made them watch last summer. What was its title again? Ah yes, _The silence of the lambs._ Ron wanted to see a gorier movie, but Hermione had said it was the only horror movie she tolerated, because of the psychological aspect. Harry had also liked it, albeit for entirely different reasons. Having a dangerous psychopath obsessed with you was something he understood, and he had seen himself in the main character. 

Actually, maybe he had identified himself a little too much with her, because Tom Riddle was currently standing behind a glass wall, in Lecter’s cell. The man didn’t look too happy about his current location, but his face lit up malevolently upon seeing Harry. 

_Bastard._

“Welcome back.” His lips stirred up in a lazy smile. “What a strange decor you have imagined...” He glanced around his cell before asking casually, “Tell me Harry, are you that afraid of me?”

Of course, he was. But he didn’t want the bloody Dark Lord to know that. Damn his stupid mind.

_At least he hasn’t seen the Silence of the lambs. Probably._

Still, things could not continue like that. The Dark Lord had already dominated their last conversation, Harry could not let him take the upper hand again. 

He answered in the same falsely casual tone. “I’m not afraid of you, Riddle." He purposefully let his voice drawl while saying his enemy's name. "But I would be a fool not to see you for the threat that you clearly are.” His mind flashed back to how the Dark Lord’s proximity had strangely affected him during their last meeting. _The glass wall is definitely an improvement._. 

He paused and stared at Riddle, but the man didn’t react in any way.

_Maybe the time has come to be straightforward._

Harry took a deep breath. In a steady voice, he accused, “You think you can come back from the dead.” 

“Yes.” 

The easy admission threw Harry off, but he didn’t let it show. If Riddle was willing to answer, he would continue his interrogation. Voldemort had wronged him in many ways, but, almost strangely, he rarely lied to his face. Then again, the man had said over and over again that Harry was merely lucky, and yet, he had always treated him like an equal. He was nothing if not paradoxical.

“And me being the Master of Death will help you achieve that?” A year ago, he would not have believed anyone could come back to life and laughed at Voldemort's face. But, in the meantime, he had survived the killing curse a second time and discovered he was somehow immortal. As far as he was concerned, anything could happen. 

“Yes.” Another easy admission.

“How?” Harry couldn’t stop the question from passing his lips. 

Riddle smirked, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you yet." 

He hadn’t really expected him to. He was already surprised he had been answered at all.

The Dark Lord's smile then grew larger and more predatory. Harry was once more caught off guard by the other man's ethereal beauty. _It was easier when he was ugly_ , he thought hysterically.

“But fear not, my little Horcrux, you will know soon enough.”

Time froze. Harry’s eyes widened almost comically.

_Horcrux…_

Millions of questions were running through his head. _How does he know? What else does he know? And, most importantly, does this mean Harry's Horcrux hasn’t really been destroyed?_

So many questions… But there was no time left. 

* * *

Harry woke up feeling pleasantly numb. Lazily, he opened his eyes and looked around him. Immediately, he recognized the hospital wing. At his right, Hermione was sleeping peacefully in a chair. She was snoring softly. 

_I did it…_

He should have been overjoyed, and yet, the feeling of numbness remained. Maybe it was because of whatever potion Mrs. Pomfrey had given him. Maybe it was because of Voldemort’s words. 

_My little Horcrux_

The memory made him shudder. 

“Harry?”

Hermione was no longer sleeping. Instead, she was looking at him with teary eyes. Before he could say anything, he found himself enveloped in a body-crushing hug. His friend was clutching at him as if her life depended on it and, just a little, it filled the void in his heart.  
Even as they pulled back, they remained silent. It was just one of those times when words are not enough.

Harry took advantage of this moment to look a little more closely at his friend. The best witch of his generation looked more exhausted than he had ever seen her. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she was as pale as a corpse. A pang of guilt shot through him. 

_This is my fault._

Another question was beginning to plague him. The absence of his second best friend had not gone unnoticed. 

In a small voice, he asked, “Where is Ron?”

Hermione must have caught his worried expression because she immediately tried to placate him, “He is fine.” She gave him a faint smile. “In fact, he will be here soon.” 

The fact he wasn’t already in Hogwarts was surprising since Harry distinctly remembered that all three of them had decided to come back for their 8th year. He opened his mouth to ask, but a shadow passed on Hermione’s face. In the end, he decided not to question her further about that. 

Hermione then began rumbling about calling Mrs. Pomfrey for a check-up, but Harry grabbed her arm to stop her. What he really needed was to know what had happened since his disparition. He doubted he would find anything related to Voldemort and his plan, but it didn’t hurt to try. 

Hermione began speaking.

* * *

Harry Potter had disappeared a little before going to Hogwarts and had been found on the 20th of October. He had been gone for almost two months. It was difficult to wrap his mind around that.  
Everyone in the Wizarding community had searched for him. Without success. When recounting that particular part, Harry could see Hermione was burning to ask. But she didn’t. He usually hated being treated like a traumatized victim, but this time he was grateful. He wouldn’t have known what to answer. 

Apart from that, not a lot had happened. Some Death eaters attacks but nothing big. No strange, unexplained event that could somehow be linked to the return of Voldemort. 

_You knew it wouldn’t be that easy._

The only interesting thing was that the Dark Lord’s body was now being kept in Azkaban.

“I want to see it.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Her expression was mildly incredulous. 

“I said I want to see Voldemort’s body.” 

She now looked worried, and she gave him a searching look. Harry held her gaze. She must have seen he wouldn’t change his mind because she agreed to ask. Harry knew it would be possible. He was the so-called savior of the Wizarding World, the ministry wouldn’t refuse him anything. 

Hermione began speaking again, but this time he tuned her out. 

_Soon,_ he thought. _Soon._


	4. of fake and real smiles

Standing in front of his fated enemy’s corpse, Harry didn’t know what to think. Now that his red inhuman eyes were closed, Lord Voldemort looked like a totally different person, someone broken. How ironic, Harry thought, that the only thing left of the most powerful wizard of all times was a deformed body. It was pathetic, it was grotesque... And yet, despite the repulsiveness of the sight, he couldn’t detach his gaze from it, not even when the young Auror in charge of guarding the body threw him yet another worried glance. 

Harry couldn’t care less about the man's opinion of him. All he could feel was numbness. A deep and unsettling feeling of numbness that hadn’t left him ever since he woke up in the hospital wing. 

_Maybe even before that,_ a worried voice whispered.

The events of the last few days flashed in front of his eyes like a dull movie he didn't really want to watch. 

_Mrs. Pomfrey checking up on him, commenting about the strangeness of his injuries. Numb. A warm smile appearing on McGonagall’s usually severe face. Numb. Being welcomed back to Hogwarts. Numb. Refusing to say anything about his captivity, knowing he would get away with it. Numb. Mrs. Weasley crying with relief. Numb. Teddy laughing as only a child could. Numb. Being reunited with his friends. Numb. Ginny kissing him. Numb. Ron telling him he simply couldn’t go back to Hogwarts without him. Numb. Hermione’s worried and analytic gaze. Numb. Learning Snape had completely healed from Nagini's bite. Numb._

__

__

_Numbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumb…_

It wasn’t completely true, of course. He could still feel something, but it was only a mockery of his usually emotion-filled mind. What he had thought to be the effect of a particularly powerful calming draught had never gone away. Actually, it was even getting worse. The emptiness had only kept growing since his reunion with Hermione. 

He focused his gaze on Voldemort’s sallow face. 

_What have you done to me?_

Only silence answered his unvoiced plea.

Harry sighed softly. Coming here had been a waste of time.

_Not completely. You can't doubt that Voldemort is truly dead now. You also know that his corpse is well protected._

Yes. By powerful spells and well-trained wizards. Taking control of it wouldn’t get the Dark Lord very far, which meant that Voldemort was planning on obtaining a new body. The real question was, how? The last time, he had taken Harry’s blood. Would this time be different? 

_My little horcrux_

And what did this have to do with anything? The part of Voldemort’s soul that had been in Harry was gone. He was sure of it now, for he wouldn’t be staring at a corpse if it wasn’t. And yet, Voldemort had felt the need to call him his horcrux, as if he still was. 

_The sheer audacity of that man..._

Harry sighed again, more audibly this time. It earned him another concerned glance that he promptly ignored. All these unanswered questions were giving him a headache. At least one question had stopped bothering him, he thought, as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. The question of how the Dark Lord had known he was a Horcrux. He couldn’t be sure, but all the dead people he had met had known more then they should. Dumbledore, his parents, the marauders... It shouldn’t have surprised him that Voldemort wasn't any different. 

And wasn’t that the scariest thought, an omniscient Dark Lord?

“Sir, are you alright?” The young man’s voice snapped him out of his inner monologue. It seemed the Auror had finally gathered the strength to speak to the Wizarding World’s poster boy. 

Sir… it was weird to be addressed that way by a man older than him.

Harry nodded and tried to muster a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry, I was merely lost in thoughts.” An awkward silence followed. Harry made a show of looking at his watch. “I should probably get going. I’m sorry for taking so much of your time.” He began walking toward the door, his fake smile immediately slipping from his face.

“It was no trouble, Sir,” a soft voice came from behind him, making him pause and turn around. “You saved us from You-know-who.” The man’s eyes were shining with gratitude, his tone was almost reverential. “It really was the least the Ministry could do.”

Harry didn’t know how to reply, so he didn’t. He gave another false smile, and left the room. 

If that man only knew how unsafe he still was. If only he knew that Harry hadn’t really saved them, that maybe he had made things even worse. A small flicker of guilt made its way through his dazed mind. It seemed it was the most powerful emotion he could feel these days.

_Cling to it before the numbness comes back,_ he told himself. _You need to remember why you have to fix this mess._

* * *

When Harry entered the 8th year dormitory, he didn't waste any time and headed straight to bed. Since it was daytime, everyone else was in class anyway, so nobody would question his unusual sleep schedule. 

Without even bothering to take off his shoes, he lied down on his bunk. Of course, he wasn't really sleepy, but that, too, was okay. It was nothing a strong sleep potion wouldn't fix. With a quick movement, he gulped down the entire content of the vial. In a matter of minutes, sleep came to him.

_Harry was surrounded by darkness. All he could hear was the sound of a child crying. It wasn't what he had expected._

_"Riddle?" he called, wary of the man's tricks._

_Nobody answered, but the child's sobs became even louder. The sound of it was making Harry feel strangely vulnerable._

_"Why are you crying?" he asked, unable to ignore such heart-wrenching cries. "What's wrong?"._

_For a moment, nothing happened. Then, after a second or two, a small glimmer of light made its way through the darkness, revealing two bright green eyes. Harry's lips parted in surprise because... Because, with tears running down his face and a lighted match in his little hands, a young Harry Potter was staring right back at him. And, even if the light flickered and died quickly, he still had enough time to glance around him and recognize his childhood cupboard._

_"Oh it's just you," the small child said, relief seeping through his words._

_Harry was going to say something, even if didn't really know what, but a voice came from behind him before he could._

_"Disappointed much?"_

_He knew that voice. Taking a quick look behind him, he saw a hooded figure._

_"No!" his younger self denied vehemently. "Of course not! I-I..."_

_A chuckle escaped the other man in the room. "I was merely joking." A few seconds of silence followed those words. The hidden figure then continued gravely, "You still believe that I will leave you." He didn't seem happy with the conclusion he had drawn._

_"I just don't understand why someone like you would want to stay with a frea-someone like me." Ah, so it was happening back when Harry still believed his aunt and uncle's lies._

_"I didn't have a choice in the matter." the hooded man answered in the same deep baritone voice. But it had taken a sharper edge. "I still don't."_

 _Little Harry lowered his head. Clearly, this wasn't what he had wanted to hear. "I'm sorry," he muttered in a soft voice. Once more, silence filled the too small room. It was broken only by the renewed sobs that the child was vaillantly trying to hold back._

_"But..." the deep voice suddenly sounded almost hesitant. It made his younger self glance up."I suppose that I could be stuck with worse people than you." Slowly, the man lifted the child's chin. "Never doubt that your so-called family is beneath you," he said in a voice that left no room for discussion."For you belong to me, and Lord Voldemort owns nothing but the best."_

Harry woke up gasping for air and yet feeling more alive than he had in days

* * *

Wandering aimlessly around the castle, the boy-who-lived was desperately trying to find an explanation for what he had just witnessed. It had seemed liked a memory, but why had he forgotten it? And more importantly, what else couldn't he remember?

His breath caught in his throat, he felt like he couldn't breath.

"Harry, are you quite alright?"

The light, airy voice immediatly made his panic retreat.

"Luna ?" he let out in a hoarse voice, surprised to see her. "Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

"I suppose I should be, " she simply answered. Harry laughed. He felt very sorry for every teacher who had Luna Lovegood as a student. "But I'm more useful here, don't you think?"

He probably should have made a joke, but after days of emptiness, he was suddenly feeling over-emotional. 

"Yes, you are," he said with raw honesty.

Luna smiled brightly. When Harry smiled back, he was happy to see that it felt real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably have warned you that Snape was alive in this story (to be honest, I wasn't sure he would be). I always wondered what would have been his relationship with Harry if he had survived (without making everything perfect and forgetting his flaws).


	5. Think before you talk

Spending time with Luna was, as always, a welcoming breath of fresh air. The girl always seemed to know what Harry needed. Today was no exception, he thought, as he watched her quietly.

Catching Harry's gaze on her, the Ravenclaw smiled gently before turning her attention back to the small thestral snuggled next to her. The two of them were adorable together and Harry couldn’t help smiling widely at the scene. It probably made him look a bit like an idiot, but he honestly didn’t care. One of Luna's numerous qualities was that she didn’t judge people.

It made Harry want to blurt out all of his sinful secrets to her.

 _Don’t talk, don’t talk, don’t talk_ , a little voice in his head immediately berated in a strange litany. His instincts were screaming at him to stay quiet about his strange dreams. 

But should he really trust his mind ? 

No was the obvious answer.

 _You can’t talk...._ He tried the words on his lips. It felt like a lesson he had learned years ago.

A thestral approached him timidly. Absentmindedly, Harry began petting it. The action was quite soothing. 

After a moment of reflection, he agreed it was too soon to talk about the whole I’m-the-master-of-Death-and-Voldemort-wants-to-come-back-from-the-dead thing... He knew too little. But he could ask some questions about his dreams. And who better than the eccentric girl to deal with their eeriness?

Going straight to the facts, he broke their relaxing silence. “Can I ask you a question about a dream I had?”

“Of course,” Luna answered lightly. “I’ll help you if I can.” 

“Well...” Harry paused, fumbling for the right words. Formulating his question without revealing too much was harder than he had thought.

“Is this about your wrackspurts?” 

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“My... wrackspurts?” he repeated carefully. The term was vaguely familiar.

“They make your head go fuzzy, remember?” 

Harry indeed remembered. The Ravenclaw girl had mentioned them during his fifth and sixth years. He wondered if, somehow, Luna had felt Voldemort's presence in his mind at the time. Knowing her, it wasn’t impossible.

“They must like you a lot.“

Harry looked at her interrogatively.

“Like me?” 

Luna simply hummed. After a moment, the girl finally lifted her head, her blue eyes sadder than usual. “Well... they always seem to find their way back to you, don’t they?“

Harry said nothing to that, his thoughts already elsewhere. Silently, he wondered if it was true, if he would truly never be free from Voldemort. 

All his previous plans were completely forgotten as he stood there, this question reverberating inside his head. The forest slowly disappeared, replaced by a familiar darkness. The sounds, too, were beginning to fade. In the newfound silence, a deep voice seemed to resonate from far away. 

_“We will always be together.”_

_His friend’s tone was solemn, and yet Harry was still worried. It sounded like the kind of lies parents tell their children, a promise meant to be broken, a lie. It was something his aunt could say to Dudley._

_A low chuckle followed those thoughts._

_“Does that sound like me?”_

_It didn’t._

_“Tell me, Harry, have I ever lied to you?”_

_The boy shook his head negatively._

_“Then believe me when I say separating us is a fit I’m not even sure death would be capable of.”_

_Pure relief washed over him. The powerful emotion prompted another dark chuckle. Curious, Harry tilted his head. Was his friend laughing at him?_

_“I wouldn’t dare.” the man said, still laughing softly. This time, the child raised an eyebrow in disbelief._

_“it’s just...” A fondness that wasn’t his blossomed in his heart. “Harry, you are so innocent... so loving. You know nothing about me, and yet an eternity by my side doesn’t seem to scare you.”_

_“I know you're my friend. That's enough.”_

_Those words, spoken with a fierce determination, made the patronising feeling of fondness return with a renewed vigour._

_“You truly are innocent...” the man sighed. “So trusting.” The word sounded like an insult in his mouth. “That we can think so differently when our stories are so similar is an endless source of fascination for me.”_

_Those words could have offended the boy. Yet, they didn’t… Because they revealed something he had always known deep down, that his friend’s upbringing had been much like Harry’s, filled with loneliness and rejection. He could feel the unspoken truth through their connection, this man had never known pure, unalterable love. It made Harry’s heart ache with sympathy._

_It’s okay, the boy thought, knowing he would be heard, nothing you can do will make me stop loving you._

_Only silence answered his heartfelt declaration. The young child had expected it. His friend never knew how to react to Harry’s "annoying" feelings._

_It’s okay, Harry repeated through their link, you don’t need to answer._

_But the man still did. After what felt like an eternity, he whispered softly, “Be careful, Harry. I do not forget promises.” There was a strange edge to his voice._

_It was a warning, a threat. But, to Harry, it sounded like a dare._

Harry tried to hold on to the conversation, but it was a hopeless fight. Slipping through his fingers, the memory was fading. 

“....happened?” 

"...don’t know.” 

“Can you hear...?” 

Harry tried to open his eyes. He really didn’t remember closing them. 

“I'm okay.” 

At this point, saying those words was a reflex more than anything else. 

“Clearly,” a voice drawled. 

the sound of it made Harry want to object on principle, but darkness was already taking him away. 

* * *

_Once more, He found himself inside the cupboard._

_"Harry, what are you planning to do about your relatives?”_

_“Err..” Harry trailed on, unsure of where his friend was going with this._

_The hooded man sighed fondly and carefully lifted the boy’s wrist. A purple bruise was still visible on it._

_“What are you going to do to make them stop?” he clarified._

_For a brief moment, Harry felt even more lost, but soon a dark feeling replaced his confusion. “Nothing,” he said. “There’s nothing I can do.”_

_“Really?”_

_Harry nodded. If he was sure of something, it was this. His relatives had always been horrible to him. It was a simple fact of life. Denying it would be useless... He had already tried that._

_“You shouldn’t give up so easily. Are you really going to let those people keep treating you like dirt?"_

_Let? Easily? How could the man say that? He of all people knew how much Harry had tried._

_“Pathetic...” the man added in a whisper._

_What was happening to his friend? Why was he suddenly so mean?_

_"What would you want me to do?” Harry asked, trying to remain calm despite the anger and hurt battling inside of him. “Run away?” He had thought about it more than once, but there was no way he could outsmart the police._

_“Of course not,“ the answer came immediately, full of contempt. “You are not the one who should leave.”_

_Harry waited for his nameless companion to add something but he didn’t. It seemed he had many mockeries to share but very little real advice._

_“Then what?” Harry yelled, suddenly unable to contain the anger boiling inside his veins. In an act of pure frustration, he pushed away the hand still on his wrist as violently as he could._

_The rejection was not taken well. Not even a second had passed that Harry already regretted his foolish outburst. A far more powerful anger was now growing inside of him. “Remember’, it seemed to be screaming. He felt it as if it was his own, and yet he knew , somehow, that such a dangerous rage couldn’t possibly belong to him. Harry had never felt an emotion so threatening._

_He wanted to maim, to hurt, to punish. And alongside the whirlwind of his mind, his scar was burning like it never had before. Instinctively, he raised his hands to protect his face from the blows that were sure to come one way or another. The action was his salvation. Immediately, the madness stopped and as fast as it had come, the anger completely disappeared. Harry was left panting in the dark._

_A few minutes passed, the two of them saying nothing._

_His companion was the first to break the deafening silence. “Be careful, Harry", he said in a deadly whisper. “ I may be far more patient with you than with others, but I am not a merciful man.”_

_Merciful?_

_"You made a promise to me. You would do well to remember it if you don't want to experience such pain again.”_

_Harry lowered his head in an act of submission but inside he was fuming once more. Not once in this encounter had his love faltered. He had promised to love the man unconditionally, but he had never said he would let himself be bullied by him._

_It seemed the man’s definition of love wasn’t the same as Harry’s. What does he think I have promised, the boy wondered._

_He tried to tell himself this episode didn’t mean anything, that he wasn’t scared._

_Harry had never been good at lying to himself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there may be too many flashbacks in this chapter. I'll have to compensate in the next one.  
> Thanks again for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ! Please review :)


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